June 15, 2011

For Aunt Eileen

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.Five billion miles away, a galaxy dieslike a snowflake falling on water. Below us, some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death, snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barnback into the little system of his care.All night, the cities, like shimmering novas, tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.